Plip, Plip, Plip A Kiss Shattering Glass
by IReallyNeedToPee
Summary: "Don't expect me to love you because you remind me of the bastard that betrayed me."  "Ahahaha, expect you to love me? All I could ever ask for is to let me use you for some fun."  Plip, plip, plip, each tear struck the floor. "Stupid girl."
1. Chapter 1

"Just shut up, you ignorant asshole! Don't think you know everything based on your own shitty experiences, and leave my life alone!" shouted the tall female, throwing her palms down onto the deep brown desk and staring a redhead named Gaara straight in the eye. Her vibrant blue hair fell in locks in front of her face, several stray strands sticking to her perspiring cheeks. Her violet eyes burned with a fiery passion, illuminating her pale skin. She would die to defend her beliefs, and Gaara knew it. He lingered between shocked and amused at her outburst, fighting a grim smile as he mused at how he could toy with her mind. Several moments passed, Ayame's muscles tightened and tense as she stood behind the desk in contrast to Gaara's relaxed state, sitting in a plastic chair and silently laughing in his mind. "God dammit you need to grow a heart somewhere in that icy soul of yours, I'm not your toy nor game you bastard," were the last words she stated, rather calmy, and he remained stunned in his little plastic chair as she slammed the door shut behind her. The deep wooden desk with her hand print smeared on it, and the little plastic chair that seated the sociopathic boy.

"I love you," he muttered, fighting tears as he bit his tongue just to taste the blood. "Such a fun game, but it hurts so much to play it," he thought to himself. The image of her short messy hair streaming in the wind haunted his mind. His fingers combed the empty air in front of him as he imagined what it could feel like. Nihilist. Sadist. Cold heartless boy. These words made their rounds in his head. "Quit hurting her so selfishly, and at the least give her the ice cold stone in your chest." Throb. He clinged onto his shirt as he had done as a small boy, and a tear dropped onto the floor. Plip.

"Jirou... you're my only hope now, please, stay with me," Ayame cried, crumpling into a pile on the floor. Her broken sobs echoed throughout the small, dank room; the wooden surroundings and metal walls reflected her sorrow and desperation. "Stupid girl. There are no such things as truly good people. I don't need to waste my time with you," he answered, standing tall and strightened up in front of the pitiful mess. Contempt shown clear in his black eyes, a hatred and rage developing in his mind towards the little girl. "Daddy... Daddy..." she bawled, tears rimming her eyes and trickling down her face. "Jirou... I said I loved you! You're the father I never had! Why? WHY? Don't leave me..." she trailed off, looking pathetically into his angered eyes. He kicked her onto her side and walked out the door. Nihilist. Sadist. Cold hearted man. That was Jirou and his tan skin. His black eyes, his light hair.

"I survived that. After years I became the best friend anyone could ever have. I dedicated my life to strangers to make sure they would be happy. I was the one who became the truly good human being. I never wanted to see someone hurt, I never want to hurt anybody. Happiness is a way of life, and I've chosen it," Ayame spoke to herself. Her real father had abandoned her emotionally, so she turned to Jirou, a sociopath and murderer to replace him. He made her strong, he taught her. She loved him, he betrayed her. Now at the age of fourteen, the sixteen year old redhead boy was challenging everything she held so close to her. Now living in one of the small dorms in the school that housed so many students, she made her way past the laughing classmates. The glow of the soft green grass and shine of the blue sky burned into her, her foot steps loud and harsh against the sound of the singing birds. Down the corridor, turn left at the second hallway, room 777. Her shiny metallic key turned in the lock and she collapsed onto the bed, hugging her pillow and wishing it were a boy she could love. The smell of musk and lavender filled the red room, bits of purple mixed in to give an elegant look. Her baggy, black, knee-length shorts spread across the bed spread as she sprawled out to feel the coolness of the covers. A sigh escaped her lips as she sipped a V-Fusion drink lying on her nightstand, planning the rest of her day. Her eyelids fluttered shut as she remembered his deep voice, the blue-eyed boy's voice as he said "I hate people, and there's no hope for me, now leave me alone and go get some common sense. What you believe is a lie fed to you by your own imagination." Bastard. What the hell happened to him anyways? And why does he never sleep? Either way, it explains how cranky he is.

Gaara sat on an elevated brick garden border, staring into the sky as he grasped the wall which he sat upon, feeling the warmth as he imagined holding Ayame's hand. "Why dammit... why," he muttered feebly, digging his fingers into the bricks as he screwed his eyes shut and fought back sobs. He looked down and could only wonder why he had to be like he was. Why he had to be so heartless. Why it was him to be ostracized. Why he was dumb enough to hurt the one person he could honestly say he loved. Why they hated him in return. Why he was so cold. His heart throbbed in pain and disgust for himself, his teeth clenched in frustration. He tried so hard to fight his sociopathy, given to him by his own family. "I can't," is all he could think. She had been the only one that hadn't run away from him. The only one who tried to help him. The only one kind enough to do anything for him at all. He was taken away by how strong she was... How stubborn and dependable she could be. A warm feeling in his chest arose, followed by a chill as he realized she was and would probablly never be there. "DAMMIT AYAME I NEED YOU," he shouted, choking up and eventually crying as his hunched over figure shook with his own rattling breaths. Plip, plip, plip. A pause. He felt someone's finger gently wipe away the tears from his eye, their skin stroking the delicate areas where his rings had developed.

He felt their arm tense, and remained motionless as they struggled to not shove him down, to not hurt him so evilly.


	2. Chapter 2

They relaxed and stroked his cheek, then sauntered away back into the school yard. "Who was...?" questioned Gaara, looking out into the courtyard that hosted what seemed to be hundreds of students, and finding no one out of the ordinary. "Ayame..." he whispered, pressing his own hand against the freshly touched skin, a multitude of questions and suspicions ripping a hole in his mind. "No... It couldn't have been her, she took off to her room, so who...?" he questioned, looking up again to the bustling crowd, as a deep rosy blush developed onto his face.

Ayame, although usually a very upbeat person, could be and often was quite anti-social. If she saw a stranger or even an enemy crying she would help no matter the circumstances, however. She took a right out her hall and back into the bright school grounds and headed towards the cafeteria, carrying the dinner she made in her room herself to replace the bland and watery food sold by the school. After about a block of her brisk walking she was able to see the students filing into the large building, their peachy clothes flashing in the evening sun as the green wooden doors contrasted with the red brick walls. The grass crunched softly under her plain converse shoes as she approached the growing mess, and she held her sack meal close to her chest to protect it from the savagely hungry crowd. "COME ON, MOVE, YOU ASS HOLE! WE'RE HUNGRY HERE!" she heard a boy scream into the relentless chaos. "Tch, like that'll help..." she groaned, stepping back to let a small little girl pass ahead of her. After a few minutes of thrusting through the disarray she made her way into the packed lunchroom and saw him. Gaara, as usual, sitting in a corner at one of the small tables that sat only three people alone. She huffed and sat down at a bench facing him, quietly and swiftly opening her sack to reveal a sealed bowl of ramen and side of steamed rice, along with two dumplings that were still hot from the steamer. She relaxed and sighed, reaching to take the lid off of her bowl as she felt a shy pull on her sleeve. She looked up first to see that Gaara had left his table, then to her left to who had tugged gently on her baggy blue boy's shirt.

"Hey, dyke. Your girlfriend make that for you? I doubt she could even tell you're a girl, you can't even see your boobs under that shirt you're wearing," remarked one of the seniors in her class. He smirked slyly, then in one quick motion reached down to grab her breast and squeezed. "Pfft, what are you, an a-cup? No wonder you wear those shirts, I bet you'd rather make people wonder than let them know how you have almost no boobs at all." Ayame opened her mouth to repond but was cut off when the pervert started leaning into her and used his other hand to try lower. Her head was screaming to get the hell away, she hated this pig, but pure shock put her in a state of immobility. Only an inch away from her lips, imagine the surprise she felt when she heard the sound of flesh being punched, and the relief of not having to smell his foul breath anymore. Bam, and the jerk went flying. He collided with another table, arousing a clatter as the trays and disposable chopsticks fell to the floor. Looking up to attempt to identify her savior, she saw a girl that looked slightly older than she, medium length brown hair and dark eyes. "So this is who I'm indebted to?" thought Ayame, obviously confused at why this girl would have any reason to help her. Looking over to her right she saw Gaara, returned to his seat, staring at the girl in wonder and amazement. His eyes were such a beatiful blue, like the sky... And the smile on his lips was beautiful. She looked back up to face this other girl, and her heart sank deep in her chest when she realized that she was smiling back at him, a flirtatious look in her eye. Gripping the seat of the bench she sat on, Ayame looked down, both to hide her shame of having to be saved and the forming salty water in her eyes. "You're supposed to be strong, dammit! Why are you crying? Because you think that Gaara boy is attractive and reminds you of Jirou, and this girl is stealing his attention?" she thought to herself, pulling back the tears in her eyes as she gazed up to meet the eyes of the new girl. "What's your name?" she asked, at this point ready to scream out of her apparent jealousy. "Matsuri," is all the girl replied, and afterwards shifted her line of sight to meet Gaara's again, as if to make sure he heard it. All the attention in the cafeteria was centered on those two and the growing promise of romance between them, so Ayame silently looked downwards again now that she could go unnoticed. Plip, plip, plip. Drop, drop, drop. "HEY! Why is she crying?" shouted a stranger from the middle of the crowd, and all focus was shifted on the crying blue-haired girl. Small sobbing sounds arose from her throat and escaped her mouth, and all she could do was run. Run out of the red building with green doors, run across the courtyard, and run into the safety of her room. "What are you doing?" is all she could ask herself. "What the hell are you doing?"

Click. Everything made sense to Gaara now. Wiping away his tear and trying to not push him down. That smile and looking into his eyes. Who wouldn't have pushed him down if they heard him scream out his feelings for Ayame? This girl... She was so strong. Matsuri, saving her from that man. Why did I never notice her before? She could be perfect for me...

The bell rang and the students were all dismissed. Gaara made his way outside and searched around with his eyes, trying to find Matsuri. After several moments of the task, he found her making her way towards him with a friendly smile on her face. A smile in return.

"What you did back there was amazing."

"Aww, it was nothing, just trying to help the poor girl out."

"Wow, you must be really... nice."

"You think so?"

"Yeah, do you want to sit with me tomorrow in the cafetieria?"

Matsuri smirked and nodded her head, stepping closer to Gaara as she wound her fingers with his and squeezed his hand. After the initial shock he squeezed back, and they stood there like that for a while, looking into each other's eyes as the gentle breeze whipped their hair around their faces. Matsuri finally let go and beamed, waving goodbye shyly as she trotted off and back to her own room, number 666. Gaara blushed and began walking back to the male dormitories, seeking his own refuge as the night arose.

Ding-dong, ding-dong! The morning bell sounded. Off to the cafeteria for breakfast, Gaara remained seated in his corner table, awaiting Matsuri's arrival. The room steadily grew in its noise level, the occasional yawns growing in number and the slow muttering of "Good morning" being built up as the minutes ticked by. Matsuri, at last, sat by him and set down her lunch tray as she smiled. They held hands and observed the door to examine any more incoming students, and both of their hearts froze when they recognized the shape of a very familiar person walking up to the doorway. Baggy clothes, short blue hair, and large violet eyes. Stepping into the mess hall Ayame looked straight up to see the two holding hands and sitting as close as could be, almost the the point of being cuddled and in each other's arms. Plip, plip, plip.


End file.
